


Dissimulation

by h-uxed (disappearingcheshire)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Barebacking, Force Use, Kylux - Freeform, Leather gloves, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, clothed kylo, naked hux, sex with the mask on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disappearingcheshire/pseuds/h-uxed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Hux, there’s freedom to be found in knowing only the mask; a fact Kylo Ren is willing to benefit from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissimulation

**Author's Note:**

> so basically [i really love this pic of kylo](http://67.media.tumblr.com/776c0916b7b0febd970c90630aa82f39/tumblr_o4lp5s6uRz1qdazsvo1_540.jpg) and wanted to write some smut based on it. it takes place under the pretense that hux has never seen kylo without the mask c:
> 
> also for [topkyloren](http://topkyloren.tumblr.com), who's my kylux sin twin and always encourages my filth! (and who prompted this whole thing a while back, after they reblogged my tag explosion about masked-kylo smut with equal enthusiasm //dies)

Hux is translucent in the glow of chamber, his body pale and bare. As he slides into Kylo’s lap, the light presses in on him, deepening his contours.

It’s the first time Kylo has seen the General disrobed, stripped down to soft skin and exposed pressure points. He skims his hands over Hux’s torso, catching him roughly by the waist.

Kylo isn’t sure what impulse made him bring the other to such a private quarter, where there’s only a chair to accommodate them. He’s seated heavily on it, his knees braced apart, and still fully clothed. If Hux has any opinion on the altar behind them, or the burnt out relic housed within it, he doesn’t express it. He’s too busy uncapping the bottle of lubricant they brought with them, his naked bottom warm against Kylo’s thighs.

Watching him through the visor of his helmet, the Knight shifts into Force-Sight, pleased when the room sharpens and the gloom recedes.

Brought into new relief, the General’s mouth looks red and lewd. It sends a familiar thrill down Kylo’s spine. His cock is the only part of his body exposed, thick and ruddy, pulled out from his unfastened pants. He’s still visibly damp.

Grunting, Kylo shifts, his groin aching hotly.

He tries to focus on the Hux here with him now, instead of the one from earlier, with a hand down his pants and Kylo’s dick in his throat. Restraint has never been his strongest discipline, and while ultimately worth the pay off, having to circumvent his earlier release is not without side effects. His nerves feel needle-tight, his body too easily stimulated.

To distract himself, the Knight touches over naked skin. His gloves contrast pleasingly with Hux’s complexion; look dark and threatening as he flattens a palm over his ribcage. 

Should he desire it, he could kill Hux. Right here. Right now.

He wouldn’t even need to apply much pressure; just _correct_ pressure. A sudden, hard surge around his heart - his lungs. If he were quick enough, Hux wouldn’t even have time to spit out a cry, just blood. Silent, wet.

Truth be told, there is never a time when Kylo _can’t_ kill Hux.

He moves his hand to the center of Hux’s chest, his fingers splayed wide over the shield of his sternum. When he looks up from it, Hux is watching him from beneath heavy lids, his eyes mercurial.

It makes Kylo’s stomach tense, that stare; gives him the rare sense of being on the quarry-end of the chase.

Sometimes, he knows, Hux thinks about killing him too.

Methodically. Rapturously.

Growling, he brings the other deeper into his lap, his cock stiff and florid. Gloves rough on the crease of ass, he exhales harshly, focusing on the flutter just below Hux’s jaw.

Normally, he’d occupy his mouth with it, but as he’s trapped in his helmet, Kylo settles for cupping a hand around the back of his neck, watching Hux’s face as the General slips the first oiled finger into himself.

The urge to introduce his teeth to the tendon of Hux’s throat, to break vessels and taste his chemistry, only increases with the moan that vibrates through his palm.

For once, his mask is more of a hindrance than aid, and the frustration building in his chest demands he remove it.

He doesn’t, though. Not this time.

The Knight digs his thumb into Hux’s pulse-point, tightening his grip.

His mask is an unspoken stipulation to these encounters, and the key to why Hux has allowed them to continue. That much had been clear the first time they had stumbled into a supply hold, when Kylo had reached to remove it and Hux had flooded the space with alarm.

For Hux, there’s freedom in not knowing the man beneath the mask. A flawed logic, perhaps, but one Kylo is willing to benefit from.

Dragging down a full lower lip, he skims over the inner flesh, his thumb slipping into Hux’s mouth. His stomach clenches when the other sucks softly, pulling his tongue along glove. Pressing down, Kylo frees his thumb, replacing it with his index and middle.

Hux quirks a brow, but widens his lips, drawing the digits in and letting Kylo fuck his mouth with his fingers. It takes concentrated willpower to keep Kylo from reaching to the back of his throat to gag him on leather.

Instead, he rubs wet knuckles over Hux’s lips, smearing his own saliva, before bringing them down to a pale nipple.

Hux shudders, flushing to his sternum, and arches into the contact. Kylo begins rough circles with his thumb, chaffing nipple until he’s raw, the flesh drawn into a hard peak. Repeating with the other side, he pinches lightly, watching the way the other’s body reacts, his breath soft and reedy.

Between his thighs, the General’s cock strains untouched. Sweeping the same hand down his stomach, Kylo remedies the situation with a firm grip on shaft. Pleased by the spasm this earns him, he gives a few dry passes, rolling his palm over swollen tip.

There are other ways to experience sex.

As Hux works a second finger into himself, the Knight runs a thrum of energy up his thighs. Chuckling when the redhead tenses, nearly recoiling from the invisible caress, he curls the Force around his wrist, vining over the hand inside of entrance.

Hux growls, but his whole frame is run through with finely spun tension, as aroused by the contact as he is unnerved. Drifting over curves and hollows, Kylo creates a pathway of Force, walking it over the avenue of spine, ribboning it across throat. It’s not the same as skin-on-skin, can’t compare to being able to feel for himself, but helps ease some of his restlessness.

Following the flex of hand, Kylo lets the energy flare into the rim of Hux’s body.

He can’t feel the heat, but he can feel the constriction – the way muscle tightens and eases around the stretch. His dick aches, his groan bleeding through his filter.

The temptation to break their unspoken rule is always there, fraying at its end, and now is no different. The filth and heat of preparation, the idea of getting someone ready for him, of stretching and coaxing their body to accommodate him, makes him burn for contact.

This holds even truer for the General, who has never appeased any of Kylo’s whims or demands, who would never go out of his way to make something easier for him, but who’s straddled over his lap, working himself open so Kylo can fill him up.

He hones his focus, increasing the energy. Dipping into Hux’s mind, into his being and body, he can feel the frisson of pleasure when his nerves register the change. It’s strange and frustrating, leaving them both with phantom touches that only amplify their urgency.

This time, the Force is concentrated, as if Kylo has slid his own fingers on top of the other’s. For a moment, he can almost imagine the fever of skin and how slick-soft it is. A hiss of annoyance breaks his focus, his own breath harsh as the redhead clenches impatiently.

Unable to resist, the Knight pushes his real hand down the slope of ass, sliding the tip of his middle finger along cleft. Dispersing the Force-tension, Kylo rewards them both, rubbing at the stretch of entrance. The moan that rushes from Hux is soft and breathy, accompanied by a surprised shudder. His fingers curl against the top of Kylo’s shoulder when the larger male coaxes the leather against him, teasing sensitive skin.

He presses at Hux’s fingers, sliding his own between them. Arousal twangs in his gut when Hux squeezes around the intrusion, their chests bumped together as he hangs onto Kylo’s shoulder arches back. Slowly, the Knight works in and out of him.

His breath grows ragged.

The contact isn’t enough, can’t compare to the liquid heat of lubricant sliding down his fingers, pooling between his knuckles – to the mess he’d make when he got Hux pushing onto his naked hand, his fingers crooked deep inside.

Kylo hisses.

His skin is damp beneath his clothes, sweat gathering at the base of his spine. He feels sweltering and suffocated, his whole frame tense in the need to remove his uniform. To get relief.

It would be easy to regulate his core temperature – the technique is basic enough – but this too he refrains from.

The prickling heat and film of sweat are his only tangible links to the situation. Through his gloves, he gets the impression of Hux’s warmth, can test the shape of his body, but doesn’t know what his skin feels like – can’t drag the back of his knuckles over the texture, or map the details.

Hux is naked and exposed in his lap, all of his secrets just within reach - yet still inaccessible.

It’s infuriating.

Filled with live-wire tension, Kylo yanks his hand away, only slightly mollified by the redhead’s choked protest.

Gripping him by the hips, soiled leather smearing the skin there, his heels dig into the ground when Hux takes the hint, reaching down to take hold of his neglected cock. He uses the same hand he had on himself, and Kylo nearly buckles at the wet heat and indirect contact. It doesn’t get easier as Hux begins to palm him.

Kylo arches, bruising pale waist.

A quick pause is followed by the slide of lube. Hux smears the glossy oil, following it to his sac and tracing along the contour of his under-vein.

“ _Fuck_.”

Manipulating the redhead’s body, Kylo pushes at his thighs, widening Hux’s straddle. A hiss escapes from between his teeth when Hux brings him against entrance, teasing himself on thick head.

With Hux holding him steady, he digs his fingers into round flesh, spreading ass to push him down cock.  
It’s a process, the fit tight and angle unforgiving, but slowly Hux opens for him.

He keeps the penetration steady, pausing every now and then while Hux adjusts, his body yielding in waves.

For a heady, light headed moment, Kylo wonders if Hux has been practicing on his own. The idea of the General spread out in bed, stretching himself wide for Kylo, makes his blood thunder.

Finally, he gets more than halfway in. Hux lets out a low sound, his expression torn between blissed and pained.

When he opens his eyes, exhale shaky, his pupils are blown, his face sex-flushed.

Watching hungrily – obsessively – Kylo hangs onto his waist as the redhead tests his own readiness. The first flex is stilted, muscle clamped like a vice, but eases with each surge. As his body relaxes, their rhythm grows fluid, Hux bouncing harder and harder in his lap. Kylo rasps a string of expletives, groping for leverage.

Finding it with both palms on ass, he pumps Hux onto his cock - once, twice – until the redhead shoves him backwards.

Reclined, he allows the other to lead, his line of vision widened by the new perspective.

Hux is made of suppressed limits and caution, but in the freedom of lowlit room, in the anonymity of Kylo’s fully dressed form and mask, he’s bold and unabashed. He takes for his pleasure, as if Kylo is nothing more than a means to an end.

It’s breathtaking.

Without the Knight to crowd him, he rides hard. His hips hitch, seating him up and down until he finds the angle he wants, his breath skating into a groan. His lips are parted, his eyes closed – like the feel of Kylo inside of him is something to savor.

Hux grinds down onto the fullness of cock, greedy and relentless; perched over Kylo’s lap like a king on a throne

Unsure where to turn his gaze, Kylo bucks into tight heat, his mouth dry. When Hux welts his own thighs, his nails scoring as pleasure crests onto his expression, it’s too much.

Surging forward, the Knight invades him, grabbing, feeling. He grapples with the urge to bite against neck, to mark and suck and kiss his mouth raw, and flattens his palm over the abused thigh.

With his other, he fists Hux’s hair, applying relentless pressure to bare his throat.

The breath is punched from his lungs when Hux arches into the grip, his body bowed and displayed. Supported by a hand on Kylo’s leg and the Knight’s staying hold on his ribs, he leans back, shifting their angle.

Sexual and indulgent, he’s transformed momentarily into a creature of feeling; nearly ethereal. The contrast is so stark it almost disorients the Knight, even while his cock throbs harshly at the glimpse into the potential lying beneath a foundation of control.

Something hot and visceral blooms in Kylo’s chest, slithering into his stomach.

This is his.

His doing; his to possess.

Almost violently, he snaps his hips, seizing Hux to keep him from upending. His growl is nearly inhuman; seething and tectonic as he bears down on him, bracing his hands beneath his legs.

In a display of both the Force and his own strength, Kylo lifts them from the chair, righting their position and hoisting Hux against him. Jarred, the redhead hitches a startled breath, holding onto the broad set of shoulders. His daze gives way to a spike of arousal as Kylo begins to move again, feet braced apart for the leverage to pump his hips.

Hooking his hands under the redhead’s thighs, he gets lost in a short, hard rut. He starts to bite out a command for Hux to put his legs around his waist, but finds it done before he speaks.

Belatedly, Kylo realizes he’s pressing his own thoughts onto Hux, that he’s assaulting him with the entirety of his want; with the demand of his lust and the haze of his pleasure.

His voice breaks on a groan, provoked by the way Hux is panting against his neck, by how close their faces would be if it weren’t for his helmet, and slips himself free from body. 

Twisting on his heel, he all but throws them back onto the chair, this time spreading Hux across the seat, and re-enters him with a firm surge.

The General cries out, his cock leaking steadily against his abdomen. His skin is raw from the scratch of clothing, his inner thighs visibly chaffed. Across his body, bruises have already begun to form in dusky blotches.

Admiring the view, Kylo braces his knee onto the chair, filling Hux with long, surging thrusts. Open and pliant, the redhead keens, splayed lewdly but unabashed. He curls a leg around Kylo’s hip, his other draped over the bend of elbow, and reaches down to fist himself.

They find a tempo, clamoring towards release. Each thrust is loud, audibly slick, and their breathing labored. Dick caught in lush friction, the force-user can feel the knot of pressure winding behind his pelvis, edging him towards his limit. Dropping down, he looms over Hux, fisting the back of chair. He groans, surprised but pleased, when the redhead grabs onto him, clutching at Kylo’s flank.

His nails drag through the thick material of his tunic, and Kylo bottoms out, both of them vocalizing through the sensation. Slamming into the redhead, his balls drawn tight at the heat and friction, he shoves away the hand Hux has on himself to replace it with his own. He palms over tense flesh until Hux cries out, his ass pulsing tightly around Kylo’s cock as he spurts onto his stomach and chest.

Cursing, Kylo follows shortly after, cumming deep inside the other, his blood roaring in his ears and his vision blacking. He collapses down, crushing them into the seat.

For a long moment, neither one of them move.

When his cognitive function begins to creep back, he becomes aware of his limbs again, and a pleasant full body tingle.

Hux breaks the silence first.

Trapped beneath the bulk of the force-user’s frame, his own bent awkwardly, his voice is hoarse and only semi- coherent, “Get off of me.”

Snorting, Kylo takes his time complying, shifting just enough for the other to slide free. As he eases off the chair, Kylo rolls onto his back, sprawling across it, and watches Hux climb to his feet.

His knees buckle, just slightly, before he gets enough of his bearings to wander towards the main chamber of Kylo’s room. He’s dazed and pleasure drunk, his gait swaying.

Following his progress, cum and lubricant a visible sheen along his ass, Kylo’s dick gives a final dull pulse.

For a languid moment, he entertains the notion of getting Hux face down on the bed; of tossing off his mask to delve into the messy flush of entrance with his tongue. He could probably make him cum again, with the right coaxing, and then when he was raw and pliant, fill him back up, burying himself in slippery heat.

A hiss of door relays Hux’s departure.

 _Next time_ , he thinks, and only waits long enough for it to slide closed again before yanking off his helmet.

Immediately, the smell of sex hits him, filling his sinuses. Biting out a groan, Kylo catches his breath in the heavy musk, stripping off ruined gloves to run a hand through his hair.

Amplified, his senses riot in the post-coital atmosphere. Each inhale brings the combination of skin and sweat, of fluid and arousal. On his clothes, the chair - in the energy of the air - Hux lingers in impressions; fleeting and just out of reach.


End file.
